


Moving On

by holhorsinaround



Category: Original Work, World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holhorsinaround/pseuds/holhorsinaround
Summary: Reflection after an RP. A piece about breakups, personal grief, and moving forward.





	

"B-bye."

Alar heard the elf stand to leave, was aware of his presence and warmth move away. He heard the word, stuttered and quiet. He parted his lips to speak, to call him back, anything, but his throat tightened and no sound came out. 

His footsteps faded away into the noise of Dalaran, and Alar couldn't bring himself to even open his eyes. He didn't want to watch Fenidar leave as he sat on the park bench. Hot tears burned at his eyelids, then began to fall down his cheeks. His chest hurt. Alar hadn't been in many relationships, and... it wasn't fair to say that's what he'd had with Feni. 

He knew it wasn't fair. All the same, months after the fact, Alar felt a hole, a ripping hole, forming in not only his chest, but also in his stomach. 

The cold autumn wind in Dalaran began to pick up and whipped around him, causing him to draw his jacket around himself tighter. The tears that stained his cheek now left an icy path along his skin. His stomach churned. 

He knew he needed to go back to the engineering shop, but each time he thought about standing, he felt like he was about to fall. 

He couldn't pull his thoughts away from Feni. Finally, he let his eyes cast down to rest on his lap, teardrops falling to his jeans. Months ago... three months now? He tried to count in his mind how long it had been since him and Feni had separated. Maybe longer. 

He felt as if he wasn't fully there; his weight felt null and void as he sank against the bench, one hand pulling over his eyes. He hadn't wanted for it to end like this; not at all. Feni was right--it did suck. 

It seemed that was all that was happening lately. Everything sucked. 

Ty and Feni getting hurt at their last job. In fact, that whole last job. 

His and Feni's fight recently at the elf's house. 

Tydre's request. 

Ty's father's letter. 

Right now. 

He'd barely had time to smile in between everything. 

He tried to amend that as he sat, cold and alone. He listed off reasons one by one, reminding himself to smile after each. 

Tyrestra was back at the shop, probably sleeping. Smile. She was beautiful when she slept. Smile. 

He was with Tyrestra. Smile. Like, actually dating her. That was an achievement. Smile. 

That brought him to another thing. He hadn't listed off his number one favorite place in Azeroth when Feni asked. He trembled, recounting the lake and the trees, the tunnel of leaves as Ty held his hand to lead him to -her- favorite spot. He wanted to go back and lay in the grass by the pond, Tyrestra in his arms. 

Smile. Large. 

He continued. 

Jadearra would be around--and she was seeing him from time to time. Smile. 

He rubbed his hand across his face. Keep thinking. 

His hand fell down his cheek to rub his neck. He winced as a sharp pain fell across the curve of where his neck and shoulder met. 

Xen'aji.... Smile. His neck still beared the marks he'd left from earlier in the week, a testament to Xen's care. He thought about the troll, remembering that he'd taken time from his work just to meet with Alar on such short notice even after only meeting twice prior. For no reason other than him saying he was having a bad week, no less. Painful as the bruises and bites were, and noticeable at that, he smiled. 

Three--three people. Three smiles. That... was enough. He didn't need to dwell on Feni anymore. He didn't need any more than this. 

He allowed himself to sit on the bench for a few more minutes as tears continued to fall down his cheeks. There was something painful yet satisfying in allowing himself this after years of denying himself the right to cry. 

It hurt, yes. It hurt more than he knew how to handle. But... three. He wasn't alone in this. He was thankful for that. He had more important matters to tend to, as it was. 

Tyrestra. Her father. 

Tydre's request. Three immediate matters. Busy busy busy. 

He leaned into his lap and closed his eyes once more. He'd allow himself a little longer to cry by himself before moving back to the shop, just to get it out of his system.


End file.
